That Others May Live
by 90TheGeneral09
Summary: Caught in the middle of the shooting at Tielson High School on May 1st, 2001, a friend of Andre and Cal's struggles to get out of the library alive, yet doesn't leave when he gets his chance. He goes back.


**That Others May Live**

* * *

><p>Kevin laughed, feeling completely at ease as he watched the latest Low Shoulder music video his friend David Hechler was showing him. In the process he caught a glare from the librarian; Mrs. Parks governed her library with a firm hand, allowing nothing and no one to disturb the many seniors studying for finals in just a few weeks. Kevin hardly minded; he knew and everybody else knew that the Class of 2001 was counting the days until graduation. He hadn't much liked Tielson High most of his four years there, and his being busted down in rank in JROTC after getting arrested last summer had not helped matters. Greg Westwood, one of the most obnoxious asses in the unit, had been promoted in his place and had wasted no time rubbing it in. The bitterness had come soon and stayed long, and Kevin hadn't had an easy time of finding a sympathetic ear. Greg was a popular guy at Tielson.<p>

As a matter of fact, one of his friends from before freshman year, Andre Kriegman, had been one of the only students at school to support him. Kevin had gotten into a fistfight with Greg one day after school in early September, an action that had cost him all the rank he had left. When he'd stormed out of the front of the school, so livid with rage he could hardly see straight, Kevin had barely seen Andre. In fact, he almost walked into the both of them; Kevin had been cutting a beeline across the grassy lawn to the main student parking lot, and on that lawn Andre and his best friend Cal Gabriel had been packing up a tripod.

Andre had turned just in time, his sunglasses hiding most of his shocked expression. "Whoah, dude!" Andre said, holding out his hands. Kevin swore violently; his mind had been on the ass-chewing he knew was coming when he got home. The keys to that gorgeous emerald '65 Buick Wildcat might not be his for a while if Dad got his way… and being the boss of the house, Dad usually did.

"_What_, Andre?" Kevin had snapped; then his anger briefly gave way to surprise. "What… what are you guys doing here?" Kevin said, staring at them with sudden curiosity.

_Nobody_ was here half an hour after school except kids in some club or another, or guys in hot water with the principal. And least of all Andre and Cal; part of that obscure majority that belonged to no cliques and didn't give a damn what the football team did, they were known quite well for their dislike of their high school. They got out early whenever they could get away with it, getting into Andre's aging blue-gray Pontiac and driving off without a backward look. This was very unlike them.

Cal looked nervous for a moment but quickly hid it, running a hand through his messy blonde hair as he turned away. Andre, however, took Kevin's question head-on. "Oh," he said casually, "just shooting a little, uh, footage."

He looked right at Kevin, adding, "You know, for the memories."

Suddenly Kevin burst out laughing; Andre was so full of shit. "Dude, there's no way you're here recording this dump so you can remember it! No fuckin' way. You're probably gonna do some CGI shit and picture a plane crashing into it."

Andre and Cal smiled at that, and after a moment joined Kevin in his laughter. There was some basis of truth to the idea; Andre was known for being quite handy in computer class, and he understood basics of CGI as well as anybody at Tielson High. Folding the tripod up and handing the camera off to Cal, Andre shrugged. "Eh, I dunno, man. Got bored, I guess. Not like I'm worried about finals like you are." Andre reached out and thumped Kevin on the shoulder. "Look at you! Going off to… wherever you're going."

Kevin became a little irked again; he'd busted his ass on those college applications last year and had been damn lucky his top choice had accepted him. "It's in Greenville, Andre."

Andre shrugged again. "Yeah, yeah, GMI and all that good shit. The Georgia-fuckin-Military Institute. Air Force!"

The black-haired teen could be quite humorous and easygoing when he wanted, and his attitude that day made Kevin want to relax. Smiling a little, Kevin shifted his bookbag on his shoulders. "Fuck you, dude."

Andre grinned. "Yep, I know you'd like to."

Face turning red at the idea, Kevin groaned. "Dude, I don't have time for this shit. I gotta get going."

He started to walk off, but Andre came up and walked beside him, his face composed and serious. "Dude; I haven't seen you this pissed off in a while, and I'm known for that shit. What's up?"

Kevin stopped next to his Wildcat, silently debating if he should say anything. Doubtless Andre was just pretending ignorance to be polite; he had been friends with Kevin since middle school, when Andre had bitched out some big kids for making fun of Kevin's last name. But high school was a small place when a fight happened; by a day later, it was a reasonable guess that all of Tielson knew Greg Westwood had beaten Kevin Rainbolt in a fight.

Finally, Kevin had decided to say something. Andre was okay; they weren't close friends, but a harsh word had never passed between them. He shrugged a little, leaning up against his car and turning around. "Colonel Jackson fired me again."

Andre stared; Kevin, regardless of what you thought of him, was known for being one of Tielson's most enthusiastic JROTC cadets. Firing him once was crazy, regardless of why; twice was beyond insanity. "Dude- what? Why? He'd have to be crazy to do that."

Kevin shrugged again, staring down at the ground. "Well, he did," Kevin said in a flat, defeated voice. He was so sick of all this. Greg thought he could just push Kevin around, make such a big deal over the fact that he now had Kevin's job…

"I fought Greg Westwood after school yesterday," Kevin added. "He wanted to rub it in a bit more that I got demoted, so I punched him, and we fought." Kevin paused. "I lost."

Andre had smiled then; he felt sympathetic for the lean, light-brown-haired teen in front of him, whose sharp features and lean build had brought some to compare him to a hawk. But there was also something Andre knew even then that Kevin had no idea of. Setting a sympathetic hand on Kevin's shoulder, the Kriegman boy had said, "Relax, man. I don't think we're gonna have to put up with him for much longer."

Kevin, taking this to mean that graduation was coming at the end of that year, had nodded, running a hand through his hair. "I know, man. I fuckin' hate that kid."

Andre had nodded. "Yeah; me and Cal hate him too."

Kevin had thanked Andre and swung open the Buick's heavy door, sitting down inside and reaching over to start the engine. Andre leaned down over the top of the doorframe and said, "Hey, dude- just remember, none of this shit's gonna last. It's all gonna end real soon."

The Rainbolt family's only son, a boy with eyes so alert and a face so lean people called him "The Hawk" sometimes, nodded, looking up at his friend. "Yeah," Kevin said, grateful for Andre's support and much less angry than he'd been before. "Yeah, I know what you mean." Then, after a moment, Kevin turned and started the Wildcat's engine; the Buick V8 grumbled and turned over with a throaty roar; behind his sunglasses Andre watched enviously. He'd always hated that run-of-the-mill Pontiac he had, anytime he saw Kevin Rainbolt's '63 Buick Wildcat go by. The thing was beautiful.

Now Kevin looked up at Andre again, and added to what he'd said a moment ago. With a dismissive gesture towards the completely unremarkable white-and-red cinderblock and brick structure of Tielson High School, Kevin said, "The hell with these motherfuckers, Andre. Come June nobody's gonna give a shit what they think."

The dark-haired Andre nodded. "Just keep that in mind, man. These fuckers may think so, but they ain't gonna live forever."

Behind Andre, the slim, blonde Cal just smiled.

Finally, Andre walked back to Cal, and together they headed for Andre's blue Pontiac, which was parked nearby in the senior parking lot. Kevin watched them for a few moments, his curiousity returning again. What were they doing here after school like this? Why had they both looked so startled when Kevin showed up and asked what they were doing?

What had that wary, guarded look, the one they'd first had on their faces when Kevin surprised them, meant?

After a few moments, though, Kevin shook his head. Andre was hot-tempered and vengeful, and he had a lot of disagreements with the existing system at places like Tielson. He had a lot of desire to affect change in the world of adults; in many ways, Andre thought like a revolutionary. But was that really so unique, unusual, or even at all dangerous? Kevin shook his head again. Andre had a temper, but so did Kevin. The Rainbolt family had known the Kriegman's for years. Andre wasn't the type to…

To _what_? To take that anger a little further than usual, and actually _do_ something about it?

Kevin forced his mind off the subject; there were certain places where it was best not to let your mind go. And he felt rather ashamed for having thought that about Andre or Cal at all; these were his friends, guys he'd known for years.

The Kriegman and Rainbolt parents had seen a bit more of the other's sons over the months that followed; a few times Andre invited him to go hang out with his 30-something year old cousin, or go shooting at a local range. Kevin had appreciated Andre giving him something to do, something that took his mind of the lingering sense of anger and shame over his demotion. It was the only thing Kevin had had at this stupid school, and they'd taken it away. But Andre was sympathetic where next to no one else was, and even if he often felt out of place when Andre and Cal were together, Kevin appreciated Andre's friendship.

They'd seen less of each other as the spring began, though- Andre and Cal had gotten busy with their own past-times while Kevin had turned his attention to finishing out the year if not with high cadet rank, then high grades. They'd been on friendly terms all the while, though, and still saw one another often at school. Kevin forgot his suspicions about that day after school quite completely; again, Andre and Cal were both his friends. He'd know if they were hiding anything from the rest of Tielson. They'd let him know if something was up.

**XX**

David elbowed him, taking Kevin's mind back to the video he was watching. "What?" Kevin said, staring at his best friend. David stared back under a mess of sandy-blonde hair. "Dude, I just showed you the whole video and you spaced out halfway through!"

Kevin shrugged. "I was thinking about screwing Katie later tonight."

David's face flushed, and he punched Kevin on the arm. "Don't talk about my girl like that, man," he said, but not with a lot of force. He, too, was suffering from "Senioritis", a highly contagious plague that caused seniors to become mellow and not care about Tielson High's bullshit in their final months there. And, like Kevin, David was enjoying every minute of it. Sighing, he turned back to the laptop sitting on the table between them. "Fine, I'll play it again."

Looking back at the screen as the video loaded, Kevin composed himself for a moment, and said honestly, "I'll watch it this time, man. Seriously."

David looked back at his friend, surprised; Kevin was, among all who knew him, regarded as loyal and generous. There was nothing he wouldn't do for a friend in need. He had his imperfections, and admitted to all of them. But it was still surprising how fast he could sometimes go from paying no attention and not being serious at all to sober and solemn as a judge. David just shrugged, putting the earphone back in his ear and handing the other to Kevin. "Don't worry about it, man. We'll have four years down at GMI to make up for your fuckin' daydreaming senior year."

Kevin did his best to glare as the video started to play, Low Shoulder emerging with their signature theatrics onto the stage in Pittsburgh where the video had been shot. "Fuck you."

"Anytime."

"Only if you blow me first."

"Yeah, I'll do _that_ when-"

David suddenly looked up sharply. "What was _that_?"

Kevin stared at the lanky soccer player. "Huh? What was _what_?"

But David sat up, looking tense and nervous. What was that popping sound from off towards the cafeteria? Were those screams?

Noting his friend's sudden tension, Kevin took out his earphone too and strained to hear whatever his friend heard. "Sounds like fireworks, man- maybe a senior prank or something?"

David got up, not looking at all convinced. "I dunno- that sounds like fuckin' M-80's if that's what they're doing…" he walked towards the library doors, looking tensely down the hall as he stepped out. "Whatever it is," he called back as he looked out, "Sounds like it's coming this way."

Suddenly, a loud bang from down the hall, maybe fifty feet. David sprang back inside the library, his face frozen with terror but his feet and arms working furiously as he spun around and started trying to close the doors.

Then there was another bang, this one much closer; somebody stepped around the corner and this time the noise was much louder. Shot in the gut by some kid in a black shirt with white letters spelling ARMY on it, David doubled up and collapsed, his quest to shut the library doors unfinished. The blonde kid shot him again and David stopped groaning.

Then a second teen had walked into the room, and Kevin had only gotten a glimpse of his unkempt black hair before diving towards the next table over. Shouting a warning for everyone to get down, he threw himself under the tables and crawled on his belly towards the nearest bookshelf. The gunshots exploded off the library's walls, echoing off the rows of books and the tall glass windows lining the room on one side. Whoever the shooters were, they had ignored the handful of kids sitting in the tables close to the bookshelves by the doors; they had gone straight for the wide open space of the main study area, all those kids at all those desks. The gunshots exploded, again and again.

Kevin could hear laughter.

A pause; Kevin uncovered his ears and looked up to see Rachel was sitting perfectly still at the table, absolutely frigid with terror. Ignoring a screaming impulse to stay down, to just stay down and freeze until whatever was happening ended, Kevin got to a low crouch and moved over to Rachel, tugging at her arm. When she wouldn't move, Kevin swept out an arm and knocked her off the chair. Rachel started to squawk in surprise, but Kevin clamped a hand over her mouth. He pulled at her arm again, pointing urgently towards the relative safety of the bookcases. Finally, Rachel's brain kicked back into gear enough for her to join Kevin in low-crawling to the bookshelves. Kevin then covered her ears with his hands, placing himself over her so a shot couldn't get to Rachel without hitting him. Then he thought of those kids out in the study area; the two shooters were standing out there, one on top of a row of desks while the other walked around. Those students out there needed help to. Something, anything. Kevin decided to act.

Fear ran through him like ice water in his veins; Kevin's heart pounded like a jackrabbit's as he low-crawled across the library rug, out onto the smooth tiles as he turned and headed for the study area. His eyes widened with shock when he glanced up for a moment, after reaching the safety of one of the tables.

He knew those voices.

He knew those faces.

Kevin's heart stopped; his brain had to remind it to keep going. His hands shone with sweat, and Kevin's joints shook uncontrollably. It was impossible.

"ARE YOU DEAD YET!?" Calvin Gabriel roared, the contempt in his voice obvious.

"No, you're still alive, aren't you?" the blonde continued, while Andre Kriegman stood nearby, loading his shotgun.

It just had to be a dream.

"SHUT UP!"

Suddenly Cal fired a volley of shots from his carbine, and the spray of blood was immediate, fantastic, as the black-haired girl who'd been cowering under the long, narrow table fell over, the back of her head blown out by a round. Kevin caught some of it in the face and told himself it was ketchup, only ketchup.

For maybe thirty seconds he lay there- for all he knew it could have been thirty days. But suddenly, he saw his bookbag lying under the table; he'd left it there when he'd joined David over near the bookshelves. He spotted two guys and some girl he didn't know low-crawling silently past the couches at the far end of the room; Andre was close to turning in their direction.

He would see them.

Suddenly, Kevin sprang out from under the table, then on impulse bolted back, grabbed his backpack and sprinted for the door.

Andre's voice, maddening in its familiarity, called, "Hey, stop!"

"Fuck you!" Kevin screamed back with a fury he didn't feel. All he knew now was fear; total and complete terror. As soon as he got out the double doors and into the empty hallway, Kevin slipped on some shell casings and collapsed, groaning as he landed hard on his elbow. Shaking with terror, Kevin rolled over against the wall and lay still. His breath came sparingly, seemingly only when Kevin thought of it. He thought he'd been scared when he'd first ridden his bike without training wheels. He thought he'd known fear when he'd run for class president in middle school, for the first time in his life standing on a stage with 1,500 kids watching him at once.

No.

Now, Kevin knew, he and fear had been introduced. Only now had they met.

Kevin covered his ear as he heard more gunshots; it just never seemed to end. But then Andre's voice, oddly enough, brought him back. "Hey, it's Greg!" Andre said, his voice light and cheerful, sounding so sincere in its good cheer that it was more than disturbing. Kevin would remember that out-of-place friendly greeting for the rest of his life.

"Please don't hurt me, sir," Greg pleaded, and Andre laughed. "Sir! I like that."

"He called you sir!" Cal chuckled.

Then Kevin realised something; there were at least a dozen students still in the corner of the room he'd been in, where David had been sitting beside Kevin, before May 27th had gone all to hell.

What if their talk with Greg didn't last?

What if Andre and Cal thought to check the bookshelves, and had a jolly chat with Rachel and the others hiding there?

Trembling in terror, Kevin shoved his backpack away. "Oh, shit," he whispered, closing his eyes. Cold sweat coated his face, his hands. "Oh, Christ." Why was he still in here? Why hadn't he left when he first got out of that goddamn library?

Just then, he caught Andre saying something friendly, his tone completely out of place with what was going on. For a second, it sounded like… he was going to let Greg go.

Two shots rang out, making Kevin jerk as if stuck with a pin. He cringed, shutting his eyes again, his heart racing in his chest. Greg Westwood was dead. Whatever he'd done wrong in taking Kevin's dumb cadet rank, he'd paid for it now. Paid for it in full. More than he'd ever deserved to, and Kevin knew it. All that bucking for rank, the petty jealousy, the JROTC politics. It was all so distant, and so stupid now.

Greg was dead. What about Rachel? What about the rest of the kids still alive in there?

I went back for my backpack, Kevin thought frantically, But I should've gone back for something else.

Those two gunshots were why he hadn't left yet. Why he had to go back. It was stupid, it was idiocy, it was against every instinct of human preservation, and yet all Kevin could think about was the Pararescue Creed, the one on the poster in JROTC class. It seemed like he understood the words better now. It seemed to fit.

But he was scared, more than he'd even been before in his life. If you go in there, a very firm voice in Kevin's mind said, _You're gonna die. You won't be any good to anyone dead. There's enough dead kids in this school. You wanna join them? You wanna make it one more_?

Then Kevin felt something else in him answer, _Something. I've gotta do something_. That decided him.

Kevin Rainbolt forced himself forward, nose almost touching the smooth, tiled floor, and began to low-crawl back into the library.


End file.
